


A Very Merry Christmas

by aljohnson



Series: Christmas 1958 - AU [2]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: AU, Adult Themes, Developing Relationship, F/M, Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The follow up to my story "Merry Christmas" this continues to be AU, and is, unashamedly, smutty. </p><p>Why is it AU? Because there is no way this ever happened in canon!<br/>Why is it M Rated? Because there are some very adult discussion topics, and then the clothes start to come off. </p><p>Let's be honest, we're all assuming that Patrick is fantastic in bed, I suspect because none of us wants Shelagh to be, well, disappointed. </p><p>I've assumed, possibly somewhat radically for 1958, that he actually cares about a woman's pleasure. I've pretty much decided he's probably a feminist, working as he does with all those women ("we're like an officer and a sergeant, and that's not to say I necessarily see myself as the officer"). </p><p>And thank HTMG for that "I'm a bold girl, sometimes" line from Shelagh, without which none of this could possibly even be conceived to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One is AU because it contains open and honest discussion, partially of sexual politics in a patriarchal society which doesn't want it's women to have sexual autonomy or ownership of their own bodies and desires. Partially it's Shelagh being utterly clueless about anything other than the act of kissing and the act of sex, and Patrick starting to fill in the gaps. 
> 
> I have *no idea* what she had seen in the shop for his Christmas Present.

Shelagh awoke slowly, a smile forming on her lips as she felt the weight of the arm lying loosely around her waist. She stroked her hand gently over Patrick’s arm, the stripe on his pyjama top matching the one she had borrowed. She laid her arm on top of his, noticing how small she seemed next to him. It was early, very early if Shelagh was any judge of the depth of the darkness swathing the room. 

She snuggled back against him, tightening his arm around her and squeezing it slightly. Behind her Patrick made a snuffling noise and brushed his nose against her back as he hazily tilted his face to a different angle. Shelagh tried but failed to suppress a giggle, the sound cutting through the part of Patrick’s mind which was suggesting he could afford himself a lie in. His body reacted instinctively, squeezing Shelagh into him even more tightly. 

“Merry Christmas” he whispered, “and good morning”.

“Good morning,” Shelagh replied, shifting around to face Patrick. He leaned forward, rubbing his nose against hers before kissing her sweetly on the lips. 

“Hmm. This is an unexpectedly lovely way to wake up” he smiled.

“Given everything that’s happened?”

“Yes.” He shifted slightly, propping himself up.

“Oh, oh bother” said Shelagh, slightly crossly, “I completely forgot about your present.”

“Sorry?”

“Your present. What with all the upset,” Shelagh chose the word carefully, “I didn’t get a chance to go to the shop. And I’d seen something I thought you’d really like”

“I see something I really like right here” said Patrick, winking at her seductively, “and if” he coughed, becoming serious again, “if things had been different”, he sighed, the mischievous side of him reappearing again, “if things had been different, I had rather been looking forward to ‘unwrapping’ you from whatever devastatingly sexy lingerie I am sure you had picked out.”

Shelagh’s jaw dropped, “Patrick Turner….” She could find no more words.

“I'm sorry darling,” he said, wincing slightly, “that was probably an unforgivably forward thing for me to say.”

“Probably. But. Well. If, as you say, circumstances had been as they should have been….” She leaned forward and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him. 

They continued kissing, lovingly and languidly for several minutes, and when they broke apart Shelagh smiled brightly, a warm fuzzy feeling enveloping her as warmly as Patrick’s arms had done last night. And yet, to Shelagh, this morning felt different to last night. Last night had been fire and energy and urgency and at some point she had felt, well she wasn't sure what to call it, but she had come very close to not stopping Patrick’s somewhat wandering hands. This morning felt more laid back, less urgent, and yet Shelagh still felt that warmth building up deep inside her, the same warmth that she had noticed herself feeling lately when she had been kissing Patrick. 

“What are you thinking?” asked Patrick, looking at her curiously. She raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I can tell when you’re deep in thought, you furrow your eyebrows and your mouth goes all ‘squinty’”, he traced a finger across her lips and cheeks as if to demonstrate and Shelagh felt the embers spark within her.

“Oh, well, erm” she felt herself blushing.

“You can tell me anything you know. I won’t be shocked.”

Shelagh paused. This felt, well, slightly embarrassing. She closed her eyes, breathed out deeply and opened her eyes again, focusing on Patrick, “I really like kissing you.”

“Well good. Sorry, I'm interrupting.”

“I really like kissing you. I've always enjoyed it, even that first time when you kissed my hand in the Parish Hall Kitchen.”

“Which was, as I said, utterly unforgivable. I should never have put you in that position.”

“But if you hadn’t, I don’t know if we would be here now. And neither of us would be happy.”

“Indeed.” Patrick murmured.

“Anyway,” she paused, “I appreciate that I am, very, inexperienced,” the word came out in a whisper, “in the ways of physical, intimacy, and I may be asking a somewhat foolish question, but,” she paused, building up her courage.

“But?”

“Last week, when we were downstairs, before the phone rang, and last night, before, before I said we should stop,”

“Yes?”

“It felt different. Is it supposed to feel different?”

Patrick considered his words exceptionally carefully, “in what way, ‘different’?”

Shelagh screwed up her face, trying to find the words to express an answer she wasn't sure of.

“Good different or...?” Patrick’s voice trailed off, he didn't want to consider the possibility of ‘bad’.

“Good, yes. But I felt like, I felt like I wanted more, but the only more I know of is, well,” she flushed nervously, but ploughed on, “the only ‘more’ shouldn't happen until we are married, and I know that I should not even want to, and I feel like I am transgressing for feeling like I want more now, or even at all. I mean, I know all the mechanics of what happens, but I didn't know I would feel as I do. And it seems as if my feeling like this is against some rule I don’t really understand”

She paused, plucking up her remaining courage to add, “I always thought that ‘marital relations’ were just something that was supposed to happen because you are married. I didn't know that I would be feeling so much like it is something I want to experience. And it seems like my wanting, my wanting more isn't what is supposed to happen” she paused, exhausted by trying to explain a desire she had never allowed herself to feel or been allowed to feel in her old life. 

Patrick considered all of this. 

“So, in summary, and darling, please do correct me if I have mis-interpreted or mis-understood what you have just said, but, you desire me?”

“Desire?”

“You want, ‘more’?”

“Yes”

“But you feel as if you shouldn't want more?”

“Yes. I feel as if I shouldn't want more.”

“And partially you feel like you shouldn't want more because we aren't married yet…”

“Yes.”

“…and partially you feel like you just shouldn't want to feel desire at all?”

“Erm, Yes. And at Nursing School they took us through all the biology, so I understand how it works, and obviously, being a midwife, well, let’s just say that the births I've been at, most of the mothers have been cursing their husbands.”

Patrick chuckled, “yes, fair point, but you aren't exactly seeing those women at their calmest or most considered.”

“No.”

“But why do you think that your feelings of desire are ‘wrong’?”

Shelagh spoke again, slowly, reaching for the words, “I know that men desire women; that they have ‘urges’,” she winced slightly at the word, it felt wrong somehow, “but it doesn't sound, very, well, loving. And everyone always says that if women desire men, that they’re, well, that they’re ‘fast’. Women aren't supposed to want to, are we?”

“Oh” said Patrick. “I think, my love, that is to say, I hope, that what you feel for me is arousal.” He paused, noting the concern that appeared on Shelagh’s face, “and that is wonderful, and I am very pleased. But I am sorry that you have been led to believe that your feelings are in any way wrong or unnatural.” He paused, leaning over and kissing her lightly on the forehead. “Your feelings are beautiful, and entirely natural, and nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. And thank you for explaining to me how you feel. I am sure this cannot have been easy for you. And it is entirely fine for women to want to enjoy this experience.” He added, and paused, kissing her on her now fluttering eyelids. He moved back, as she opened her eyes.

“It’s just, no one talks about it. How are you supposed to know, well, anything, if no one talks about it?” Shelagh paused, considering again everything Patrick had just said. “Why are you pleased?”

“I'm sorry?”

“You said I was feeling aroused and that you were pleased.”

“Because it thrills me that you desire me, as much as I desire you. And I do desire you, immensely.”

“Yes, I could tell that last night, said Shelagh, her playfulness trying to lighten the somewhat serious tone their conversation had taken. 

“Again, sorry. Whilst I can control my ‘urges’, I, unfortunately, cannot always control my biology.”

Shelagh laughed, raising her hand over her mouth, in an attempt to muffle the laughter which quickly developed into a snort. “I'm sorry Patrick,” she said between gasped breaths, “this is not a laughing matter”. 

“Oh it absolutely is. But I did rather think last week that you were well, rather keen for something more to happen”

“Sorry? What?”

“There was a look in your eyes” he said, deliberately widening his own in an attempt at imitation. “And, again, I must apologise for last night, I am not sure what came over me, I just suddenly felt so alive, and as if I needed to affirm that fact”.

“Yes. I was enjoying it, but, it’s just, last night, when your hand was on my thigh….” she was hesitant again, and Patrick was worried that Shelagh might fear that he was unable to control himself, no matter what assurances he gave her. 

“I am, truly sorry my love. I just,” he paused, “your skin is so soft and it felt so warm, and I just wanted to touch more of you.”

“Oh, But it felt, it felt like more would have happened. And the only more I am aware of is, is well, consummation.” the word slipped out of Shelagh’s mouth like a confession of guilt. “And for the briefest of moments, I did feel as if I didn't want to stop. But however acceptable my desire may be, however natural my feelings are, there is a very, fixed, part of me which feels like those desires should only be realized within the bands of marriage.”

“And I feel that way too. I hope you know that I respect you too much to ever want to force you any further than you are willing. And I believe in the sanctity of marriage as you do. But it may be worth me pointing out that the fulfilment of desire is not always marked by” he hesitated over the next word, “intercourse”. 

“It’s not? I'm afraid you have the advantage on me here.” Shelagh was confused. If kissing led to desire, and desire was a sign of wanting to be with him, then what else could there be that would fulfil the desire?

“Oh it is not” said Patrick, his voice deepening slightly, a slightly devilish smile appearing on his face. He leaned down and gently brushed her lips again. Shelagh smiled as he kissed her and allowed him to deepen the kiss. They rolled slightly, so that she was lying across him, her left leg lazily folding over his. Her hand moved to his chest, her fingers lazily trailing patterns over the stripy top of his pyjamas. As their lips finally parted, Shelagh sighed continuing to trace her index finger across and around Patrick’s pyjama top. 

“This feels different from last night too.”

“Still good?” queried Patrick.

“Still good. But less, urgent?”

“Yes, less urgent.”

Shelagh paused, scrunching her face again in thought. Patrick stilled, allowing her the time to build up to whatever she was trying to say.

“So, if the fulfilment of desire isn't always, well, intercourse, then what is it?” she asked, focusing intently on the line of buttons down Patrick’s top.

“There are, well, all sorts of things. And, I think I should tell you that even when, well consummation is the fulfilment,” the words rolled off his tongue, sounding to Shelagh like the most intimate secret in the world, “even then, it won’t feel the same every time.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, take this for instance” he gestured between them, “this morning we are moving slowly, and lazily and sometimes it will be like this, but sometimes it will be like last night, when we were both somewhat eager. And sometimes it will just be silly.”

“Silly?”

“Yes. You’ll put your leg somewhere odd and give yourself cramp. I’ll not have had a shave and my stubble will tickle you. The phone will just constantly ring at the most inappropriate moment.”

“But I thought it was all supposed to be terribly serious. I mean, we both know what it can lead to.”

“Indeed we do. And sometimes it will be serious. But we should always enjoy it”.

“I think I'm starting to understand.”

“Good” he leaned down and kissed her again, slowly this time, taking first her upper lip and then the lower between his two, Shelagh eased herself forwards, responding to Patrick’s softness. They deepened the kiss, Shelagh’s tongue eagerly seeking Patrick’s. Patrick slid his arm around to Shelagh’s back, the fingers on his hand separating to support her spine. They continued kissing as Shelagh gently continued to move.

She was half draped over Patrick now, who was making no move to change that situation. Shelagh felt somewhat inquisitive; she wanted to know more about these ‘all sorts of things’ to which Patrick had referred. They sounded, well, interesting, and potentially quite fun. Shelagh managed to wrestle out the question she had been considering.

“So, last night, when your hand was, moving upwards, and then I asked you to stop, and you did.” She paused, looking at Patrick who was still gazing at her intently, “what would you have done if I hadn’t asked you to stop?”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like a game of chess, it’s all a bit more, spontaneous” he replied. He honestly hadn’t been thinking the night before; he had just been taken over by the moment, and then the clear voice of Shelagh asking him to stop had snapped him back to reality in an instant. 

“But what would you have done?”

“Erm, oh, well,” it was Patrick’s turn to feel unsure of himself, “I think, I’d have probably been trying to run my hand gently over your…” he paused, now he thought about it there was only really one place his hand would have been aiming for, and he realised if he said the word he’d probably come across as an impulsive teenager, rather than a sensible grown man. He looked at Shelagh with a pained expression. Shelagh for her part made a face that suggested total innocence, but which was laced with a hint of knowing flirtatiousness. Shelagh was coming to the belief that she’d quite like to know what Patrick’s hand would have done. She decided to give him a chance to seize the moment. 

“Patrick, I think I have a very good idea where your hand was going.” She bobbed forwards and gave him a light peck on the nose, before moving down to lightly kiss his lips again, and as she continued to lightly adorn his jaw and neck with tender kisses, she shifted her position so that she was kneeling in front of him. “I was just, teasing you. Now, if you’re ‘allowed’, theoretically,” she winked at him, “to wander your hands up the inside of this pyjama top”, she boldly grabbed Patrick’s hand and placed it on her waist, inside the top. Patrick gasped, blinked slowly and swallowed hard.

“Shelagh!”

“If you’re ‘allowed’ to let your hand wander” she nodded at him, and was pleased when he gently and lightly started to run the very tips of his fingers over her waist, “does that mean I'm ‘allowed’ to undo these buttons?” she ran her hand to the top of the line of buttons fastening Patrick’s pyjama top shut. 

“Shelagh,” Patrick hesitated, he didn't want to push Shelagh into anything she wasn't comfortable with, but then again, he was very keen to explore her body more, and right now, she seemed very keen to make that process of exploration and familiarisation a two way street. He cleared his throat lightly, and started again, “Shelagh, my love, not that I am in any way trying to curtail this, this,” he gestured between them as best he could with no free hands and an increasingly distracted mind, “this lovely, really very lovely, occurrence. But please know that I don’t want you to think you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Patrick, I trust you. And I trust that if either of us feels we are getting too,” it was her turn to clear her throat, “too, out of our depth,” she smiled, “that we will stop ourselves. And it is Christmas,” she paused, leaning down to kiss Patrick’s neck and whisper into his ear, “and I would very much like to see what I would have got, had things been different”. She pulled back slightly, and Patrick saw her pupils dance, as if she were a siren calling sailors to the rocks. Patrick was all at sea, but entirely willing to drown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consent. Ownership of your sexual education. Talking, checking. 
> 
> Remember, consent is *always* required, and should be checked for at regular intervals. Especially if you're trying new stuff. It's also a two-way street.
> 
> Clothes are coming off - if you're not comfortable with that, I suggest stopping reading now. 
> 
> Also, I've noticed that I tend to give men in my fics a slight moment of doubt about their own physicality. It may be only fleeting, but women are so conditioned to *have* to look perfect, and are given such unrealistic expectations, that I think it's only right and fair that the chaps should have a quick flash of doubt.

“Yes. Undo the top, please” he pulled her to him, his lips plunging for hers as they frantically deepened the kiss. Patrick’s hands held her tight, one still on her back, the other spread wide around her delicate waist, the running of his fingers pausing for a moment as they engaged in deepening their kiss. Shelagh was practically straddling his leg now, and she shifted her weight to her thighs so that she could free her hand to work loose the buttons of Patrick’s pyjama top. She made quick work of the series of buttons, and scooped the top aside as her hand slid across Patrick’s broad chest. They were still kissing, as Shelagh’s hand lightly explored Patrick’s upper body, her fingers swirling around, her palm flattening and rising as she followed the contours of his chest.

Patrick’s breath quickened, and he was momentarily distracted by the thought of what would happen if Shelagh didn't like what she saw, or, well, felt with those gorgeously lithe fingers of hers. He was aware that he had strong, broad shoulders; years of lugging a heavy GP’s bag and other equipment around had helped to maintain muscle tone there, but he was also well aware that his stomach had become, well, somewhat podgy, through years of fried breakfasts and copious amounts of cake forced on him by the Sisters at Nonnatus House. His brain shook that image off; this was no time to be thinking of any nun other than the former one who was currently, oh good grief, she was rocking against his leg as they continued to kiss each other. Patrick was coming close to sensory overload as Shelagh’s hand moved lower around his midriff. He stuttered part-way through kissing her, causing Shelagh to break the embrace of their lips.

 

“All right?” she asked, “Is this, all right?” It occurred to Shelagh that she had no idea whether she was doing this ‘right’, whether you were supposed to move your hand like this, whether Patrick liked what she was doing. She knew that she had liked it last night when his hand had been stroking her, and that she was enjoying his hold on her waist now, and was therefore taking her cue from there.

“Yes, fine, really, really fine” said Patrick with a degree of understatement that surprised even himself. “Lovely” he added; he could sense Shelagh’s nervous trepidation, her hesitancy. He felt her hand creep around his shoulder blade, fighting to be able to work within the confines of the top which was still firmly clothing his body. He could feel her hand work its way back down and under his arm to trace up his shoulder blade. 

“Can you, sit up?” she asked. Patrick nodded, carefully shifting himself and swinging his body forwards, using Shelagh’s weight on his thigh as a fulcrum to lever himself, maintaining the grip of his wide palm, spread out across her back to help him, dipping her back very slightly as he lifted, the hand on her waist reluctantly breaking contact to help him push himself up. Shelagh scrambled clumsily, holding onto Patrick’s back, her fingers digging in slightly as he shifted her backwards. A shiver ran down his spine as he got himself into a seated position, and found Shelagh now at the perfect height for kissing. 

Patrick leaned forwards, gently kissing her jaw, noticing as her eyes fluttered closed and she slightly tilted her neck towards him. He took the hint and gently pressed his lips to her exquisitely pale skin, pressing gentle kisses up the line of her neck, moving on to gently suck on her ear lobe, exhaling slowly across the now dampened skin. He felt Shelagh shudder slightly, and the grip of her hand on his back tighten even more. She wrapped herself tightly around him, and Patrick was content that if he moved the hand supporting her back she was not going to fall. He moved his hand from her back to her thigh, and gently but quickly shucked his hand under her pyjama top and made contact with her waist once more, the palm of his hand making her feel tiny in his arm. He felt braver now that Shelagh was more relaxed about this closeness than she had been previously. It occurred to him to wonder what had changed, and he supposed it was the fact that he had assuaged her obvious fears about the potential outcome of their activities. She was certainly responding more confidently than she had before, and he felt her starting to loosen his top from his shoulders. 

Shelagh pressed her lips to Patrick’s temple as he worked on her neck, and she noted the smooth way his hand had worked its way back inside her top. She realised that she liked the way his hand felt against her skin. She also noted the sense of caution she could feel, as Patrick continued to brush his fingers against her skin, whereas she was tightly clinging to him, her hands firmly digging into and moving across his back. She decided she wanted to feel his skin against hers, unrestricted by his pyjama top. She moved her hands to his shoulders and started moving the collar back, to free the item from where it was still covering him. She swept the top back and up, working out as she went what the best way to try to remove it from Patrick’s back was. The top was dangling down his back, still very much attached to his arms, when Patrick paused his ministrations towards Shelagh’s neckline and jaw. 

“Hold onto me” he whispered into her ear, noting as the words left his mouth that she seemed to murmur something unintelligible, but affirmative sounding. He felt her grip him more tightly, bent his unencumbered leg toward him to support the pair of them more securely, and released both his hand which was supporting him and the one holding Shelagh’s waist. Quickly reaching back he shucked the top down his arms, freeing the item with a rumpled flourish and tossing the garment past Shelagh towards the foot of the bed. He wrapped his left arm back up Shelagh’s borrowed top as he planted his right one on the bed to support himself. 

Patrick gently pulled Shelagh towards him, kissing her on the lips, as he brushed her nose with his. He moved to the other side of her neck, kissing it gently, “do you like this?” he asked as he nibbled at her skin, soothing his tiny bites with gentle damp kisses. 

“Erm, Yes” responded Shelagh, finding her hands now loosening from their tight grip on Patrick’s shoulders and starting to wander some more.

“Good” said Patrick, moving to her ear, sucking on it gently, “and this?”

“Yes” said Shelagh, more positively this time, the fingers of her left hand moving round to run through his hair. Spurred on by Patrick’s questions, Shelagh leaning forwards and kissing Patrick’s jaw line, his cheeks and the tip of his nose, “is this all right?” she asked him.

“Yes,” whispered Patrick, breathing deeply into Shelagh’s ear as he exhaled the answer. Shelagh made a noise that sounded like it could have been a whimper.

Shelagh could feel Patrick’s hand carefully wandering up her back, and the pyjama top, as large as it was, started to bunch slightly, pushing up and exposing even more of Shelagh’s thigh. Shelagh had rolled up the arms of the top last night, but the rolls had softly fallen out of place during the night and the sleeves were falling up and down Shelagh’s arms as she continued to map Patrick’s back, side and chest with her hand. 

They parted slightly, Shelagh searching for a way to say what she now needed to. Patrick could see the look of hesitancy on her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, not letting go with his hand, but stilling it as it now wrapped round her, his long arm reaching all across her back now, the very tips of his fingers making contact with the very edge of Shelagh’s breast. She shivered slightly, the lightness of the touch was so delicate, but the position of his fingers so unmistakable. He felt so gentle. 

“I was just, deciding something” Shelagh answered. 

“Really? What were you deciding?” Patrick asked with a slight smile.

“This” responded Shelagh, maintaining the eye contact as she loosened both her hands and brought them back to her borrowed pyjama top. She ran her fingers gently up and down the line of buttons before loosening the top one from its snug cotton button hole. She moved to work the next button free, and Patrick glanced down briefly to see Shelagh’s fingers working nervously.

“Are you sure….” Patrick was aware of the need to respect Shelagh’s boundaries, but a very eager part of him really wanted that top to come off, and he didn't want to seem like he was dissuading her.

“If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” said Shelagh, deliberately moving to the third button, “would you like to help?” she batted her eyes at him, and he responded instinctively. His hand flew from around her back, emerging from the top and leaping up to meet her fingers working on the next button down. There were only two buttons left now, and they worked them free together, kissing frantically as the intensity built between them. Patrick grabbed Shelagh’s left hand in his as the last button popped free. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers gently, carefully kissing the tips of each finger before kissing down the small extent of her little finger to gently plant a series of kisses on the small faint scar on her palm. He was trying to calm the frantic energy somewhat, and a small part of Patrick’s brain started working through West Ham’s form for the season so far in a desperate bid to tamp down his rising ardour.

“Now, what was that about ‘unwrapping’ your present Doctor Turner?” teased Shelagh, softly whispering in his ear. He gulped, leaning back slightly, raising an eyebrow as if to question the level of sass he was experiencing. 

“Well then, if you put it like that… Miss Mannion.” Patrick was nervous now, and he had no idea how Shelagh had managed that invitation with a straight face. He slowly reached his hand forward, brushing the front of the top open as his hand made contact with her abdomen. Her skin was so smooth and warm, and Patrick gently swept his hand around and onto Shelagh’s back, the two of them never breaking eye contact. As Patrick’s hand gently continued its sweep around her back, it settled and spread across her spine, supporting her once more. Shelagh was getting used to Patrick holding her like this, and Patrick could feel as Shelagh relaxed from their previously tense state. 

He pulled her closer to him, pulling her to her knees as he did. He leaned forward and kissed her, noticing an initial trepidation fade into welcoming warmth as she responded and then deepened the kiss herself. They both fluttered their eyes shut, relying on their sense of touch to guide them.

Shelagh balanced on her knees and wrapped her arms around Patrick’s neck. She felt his leg move, so that he was now resting with both his legs bent back beneath him. She moved closer, slowly allowing her hands to continue her exploration of Patrick’s shoulders. She was realising that they were really quite well developed, and she found herself feeling as if no harm could ever come to her whilst he held her tightly in his grip. 

Their kissing continued, both of them shifting slightly until they found positions they were comfortable in. Shelagh broke the kiss first; leaning back onto Patrick’s thigh once more she sighed “is this all right? Am I, all right?”

“Oh, Shelagh, you are… incredible.” Patrick could feel Shelagh becoming warmer and more relaxed. “Are you, having fun?” he asked, fairly sure that the answer would be positive, but wanting to make sure.

“Yes, I am. This is, unexpected, and I think I see what you mean about spontaneity, this feels very”, she paused, trying to find the right word for all she was feeling, “this feels very natural. Does that make sense?”

“Yes”

“Good. And Patrick, I know you’re a gentleman, but it really is fine to look at me.” Shelagh attacked the elephant in the room; Patrick was kissing her, and stroking her body, but he was steadfastly refusing to look at her. “I want you to look at me” she said, in a whisper. Shelagh gently, tentatively shuffled back slightly, reaching behind herself and gently tugging the arms of her borrowed pyjama top slowly down her arms. She turned away slightly as she freed herself from the garment, and tried to place it neatly over the end of the bed. She turned her head back to look at Patrick, whose breathing had become even shallower. Shelagh looked into his eyes, which were now slowly tracing a path up and down her body. Shelagh turned to face him fully, and heard him swallow loudly as his breath caught at the back of his throat. 

“You are beautiful” he managed to say, stumbling over the three simple words. 

Patrick grabbed Shelagh, pulling her tightly to him. He kissed her tightly on the lips, before moving to kiss her jaw, then down to her neck. He paused his trail of kisses, freeing one hand to smooth his palm round to rest, tenderly across her breast. The soft mound lay softly within the palm of his hand, and he couldn't stop himself from gently rotating his hand to brush the tip of his thumb across the nipple. He gently rotated the pad of his thumb around the base of the peak, his sweeping movements becoming slowly more focused but remaining as gentle and reverent. He moved his attentions to her other breast, repeating his movements. This time, the peak hardened, and Shelagh trembled, a small and quiet “oh” forming on her lips. Patrick looked up at her, 

“OK?” he queried.

“Umm hmm” said Shelagh, failing to find any coherent response. She could feel herself trembling slightly, and somewhat worried, for a reason she couldn't fathom, that her knees were about to give out completely. Patrick gently moved his hands so they were both supporting her, one on her back, one on her waist, and gently guided her until she was lying on her back. Shelagh leaned up, and tugged Patrick to her, kissing him. She moved her lips over his, exhaling gently as they parted. 

“More?” asked Patrick gently, “If you’re all right with that?”

“Hmm, Yes” replied Shelagh, working her shoulder blades into the firm mattress of the bed, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Good” said Patrick, arranging himself to lie tucked into Shelagh’s side, propping his head up with one hand, the other free to roam casually across Shelagh’s delicate, pale yet increasingly warm skin. He bent down once again to kiss her, and felt Shelagh’s hand slip round to his back, the tips of her fingers making gentle patterns across his skin. He liked the feel of that very much; it made him feel more alive than he had in some time. 

He reached down, moving his fingers gently through her hair, his fingers moving down to lightly swirl patterns on Shelagh’s neck, his fingers quickly now trailing down to stroke her breasts again, before moving down to lightly graze her abdomen. Patrick shifted his weight slightly as Shelagh made a sound that sounded very much like a purr. He glanced up and found a small smile on her face. 

Shelagh reached her hand down to stroke Patrick’s shoulder and run her fingers through his hair. She found she couldn't reach any further down his back and briefly opened her eyes to find that Patrick had shifted himself slightly further down the bed. She was momentarily confused, but saw him lean down and briefly press his lips to her chest kissing her sternum, before briefly turning his head left and then right, placing the merest pressure of his lips to the inner edge of her delicate breasts. She saw Patrick glance up at her, and smiled at him with what she hoped was a look to urge him to continue. 

Patrick noted the brief flicker of permission, and plunged forward. He wasn't planning this as such, but he did have a certain idea of where he was going, and he hoped that Shelagh wouldn't ask him to stop before he’d made her understand that her desire could be satisfied in a manner that didn't compromise her. He had a plan for a somewhat cheesy line revolving around this whole ‘present’ analogy they appeared to be indulging in, he just hoped he wasn't going to get slapped for it. He could get very used to spending cosy mornings wrapped up in bed with Shelagh; he didn't want to frighten her off now.

Holding a hand lightly on her stomach, he moved his head, and kissed the nipple on her left breast. He felt Shelagh tense slightly, and a somewhat confused, ‘oh’ could be heard from her mouth. He glanced up again, his lips locked around the peak of the delicate flesh. He raised an eyebrow and smiled cheekily. “All right?” he asked, the question somewhat muffled.

“Umm, maybe. Do that again?” asked Shelagh. Patrick didn't need asking twice and he bent down and slowly suckled at her breast, peppering the area with butterfly kisses and at one point, blowing gently across the peak of the nipple which he noted pleasingly, rose to a hardened peak in response. He paused, licking his thumb and fore finger, and gently, very, very gently, massaged the nipple until it was protruding prominently, whereupon, with a great sense of mischievousness, which surprised even himself, he gently bent forwards and suckled once more on the gloriously soft flesh. Shelagh let out an involuntary gasp and placed the palm of her hand across the top of Patrick’s shoulders, anchoring herself to him.

His other hand had moved from her stomach and he casually trailed the pads of his fingers over her other breast. Shelagh wasn't really sure what she was feeling. It was similar to last week on the sofa or last night, but those times had been hot and frantic, and merely kissing, whereas this was a slow burn which was being stoked, and Shelagh could feel herself warming on the inside, a desire unlike those she had felt previously making itself apparent to her. Patrick switched the attentions of his lips to her other breast, trailing his tongue over and around, marking a path from the rib lying underneath the breast, ending on the peak of the nipple. He lavished kisses all around the pert breast, gently massaging and caressing as he went. Shelagh’s response made itself known in a series of murmurs and utterances, which Patrick realised were becoming pleasingly more vocal.

Patrick’s hand lightly trailed down the side of Shelagh’s ribcage, and he felt her squirm slightly. He paused, trying to assess whether the squirm was in pleasure or discomfort. He heard Shelagh sigh and felt her fingers dig into his shoulder slightly. He decided the sigh therefore meant pleasure, and trailed the pads of his fingers lightly down Shelagh’s stomach, quickly brushing over her knickers which he noted had some delightful lace detailing. His hand moved further down, stroking her thigh the way he had done last night, but gentler now than even then, the touches feather-light. As he flattened his palm and smoothed it over Shelagh’s thigh and around towards the back of her leg he heard it, a gentle breaking “oh” of satisfaction. Shelagh sighed with her whole body and he saw the smile on her face widen. 

“Do you like that?” Patrick enquired, attempting to sound casual and nonchalant. 

“Yes” said Shelagh, with an amount of certainty which surprised even her. She felt his hand circle slowly again, the gently probing fingers managing to sweep around towards the back of her thigh. Shelagh instinctively bent her leg slightly, allowing Patrick more room to manoeuvre around her well-developed legs, still toned from years of cycling over the cobbles of Poplar. Patrick brushed his hand around Shelagh’s leg once more, allowing his fingers to explore further around this time, brushing gently against her inner thigh. “Oh” the sound was more surprised this time, and Patrick glanced up, noticing Shelagh’s cheeks flushing slightly. He smiled to himself, and shifted himself further down the bed. He raised his body up and pressed his lips lightly to Shelagh’s inner thigh, his hand moving even further down to caress her lower leg and ankle. As his lips connected with the silky smoothness of her thigh he heard Shelagh gasp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we should all just take this moment to recall that Patrick Turner is a man who managed to seduce a nun of ten years standing out of her habit with little more than some lingering glances and a kiss on the palm. Yes, I know she was already doubting her vocation, but I think if Patrick hadn't revealed his feelings, she'd never have made the decision to give up the religious life.
> 
> If you were experiencing the most intense pleasure of your life so far, and someone offered you more - wouldn't you say yes too?
> 
> M rated. Just, very M!

Shelagh had never imagined that there was so much gentleness in this act. She had thought that things would be frantic and rushed and, well, she certainly hadn’t realised that there would be so many other parts of her body involved. As Patrick kissed her inner thigh, a movement which felt terribly decadent, she brushed her hand down and lightly over her own breast. Her nipple responded immediately, peaking again. Shelagh felt a tingle throughout her entire body. The gasp and the murmur which came after it were sounds that Shelagh couldn't have controlled if she’d wanted to. The thought passed through her mind that she was supposed to be quiet, but Patrick hadn’t told her to be quiet, had merely been checking with her that she was all right, and responding to the cues she was giving whenever she made a sound. Oh good grief, had he just kissed her knee? That felt odd, but somehow Shelagh enjoyed it, perhaps it was the way he was nibbling gently at the fold of skin at the back of her knee. She glanced down, how had he even managed to twist himself to be able to kiss the back of her knee? 

Shelagh looked down her body, momentarily stunned that she was lying there practically naked. A shiver ran down her. Patrick glanced up from his position half way down Shelagh’s legs, and Shelagh was suddenly aware of the dark desire evident in his eyes. 

“All right?” he asked, “are you warm enough?” he added, quietly.

“Yes, I am.”

“You shivered.”

“Yes. But I'm not cold” Shelagh couldn't explain the contradiction herself.

“Ah” said Patrick, knowingly.

“Ah?” questioned Shelagh.

“You’re enjoying yourself” stated Patrick, cheekily kissing the inside of Shelagh’s knee, as he wrapped his arm around her other leg, gently guiding her leg to lie open as he kissed the inside of her other knee softly. 

“I am” said Shelagh, realisation dawning. She felt, what was the word? ‘Fuzzy’ she decided was the word. If this was what came after kissing, she was sorry that they’d been interrupted last week, and that she’d called a halt to proceedings last night. But she couldn't quite shake the feeling that if she hadn’t asked Patrick to stop last night, that, well, certain, things, would be less, well, ‘intact’ now. She curiously felt more in control this morning. Maybe it was the early morning light trying to break through the curtains covering the window, maybe it was the noticeable difference in pace. Shelagh just knew that she felt tremendously relaxed, and as if she didn't particularly have any appetite to get out of bed. 

Patrick shifted his weight, pulling himself back up the bed slightly. His hand swept up Shelagh’s side and across her stomach once more, noting the palpitations he could feel within her. His hand swept back over her hips, still covered in her only remaining piece of clothing. He made swirling movements over the thin fabric. He was the world’s least knowledgeable man when it came to fashion and clothes, but he knew what he liked, and these knickers; mostly cotton, he’d wager, but with little lace sections, and what, now he was closer, he could see was a little silky bow on the front, were quite definitely what he liked. Shelagh looked fantastic in them, and his mind briefly wandered to what lingerie she had been planning on wearing for their wedding night. Patrick cheekily worked a finger into the top of the underwear, gently rotating his finger, and moving its pad carefully in a line across the very bottom of her abdomen. He looked up at Shelagh, who looked at him carefully. He saw the querying look in her eyes.

“Now, these,” he gently rubbed the material between his thumb and fingers, “are absolutely delightful,” he swallowed, the somewhat cheesy line that had been floating in his head for the last few minutes forming slowly from his mouth now, “but I’d very much like to unwrap you entirely….” he stated, with considerably more swagger in his voice than he was feeling. He moved his hand again, moving his thumb so that it gently rose up and moved under one leg of the knickers, his finger rubbing his thumb with the material held between them.

“Patrick?” asked Shelagh, a hint of panic rising in her voice, “But we said we wouldn't, that we won’t. We aren't, I can’t….” her voice trailed off.

“And we won’t.”

“But, if…”

“There is just, one more thing,” said Patrick, “which I would, very much, like to show you. And I promise, absolutely promise, that everything will remain”, he swallowed nervously, hesitating over the next words, “everything will remain, ’intact’. And if you ask me to stop, I will stop.”

“One more thing?” asked Shelagh, completely unaware of what Patrick wanted to do. What on earth could there be that involved her taking her knickers off that, wasn't well, ‘that’? She trusted Patrick, but was utterly bewildered. 

“One more thing. Which I hope you will like.” He paused, giving Shelagh time to respond.

“And your, pyjama bottoms?”

“Are, absolutely, staying on” Patrick reassured her. He could see the cogs working in Shelagh’s brain, the confusion at war with the curiosity. He could see the point where the curiosity won and tried to subdue the grin threatening to burst across his face.

Shelagh plucked up her courage and shifted her hips slightly, creating the smallest space imaginable between herself and the mattress. She looked at Patrick, smiled shyly and gave him the merest of nods. 

“Thank you” he whispered, kissing her stomach as he carefully slipped the knickers down Shelagh’s legs, placing them delicately near the top she had borrowed from him. How far they had come from her sleeping on the sofa he mused.

He turned back to Shelagh and scooped her into his arms, adjusting her so that her head was on one of the pillows at the head of the bed, rotating her slightly so that he could make full use of the available space. It was fair to say he was nervous about this himself. He couldn't help feeling somewhat ‘out of practice’. But the love and passion and desire he felt for Shelagh overwhelmed him, along with his wish to calm Shelagh’s nerves. He wanted their wedding night, whenever it would now be, not to be marked by hesitance, uncertainty or embarrassment, but to be remembered, by both of them, as the first chapter of a glorious and loving journey together. But all that was to come, for now he was more than eager to demonstrate to Shelagh that her body, and its desires, were nothing to be afraid of. Shelagh had been practically purring a few moments ago, and he hoped he could get her back to that blissfully hazy state quickly before he moved matters along. 

He scooted up the bed, and leaned in next to her, his hand automatically now moving to caress her neck before lazily moving down and around her body. 

“Now, where were we?” he asked, kissing her slowly. Shelagh deepened the kiss as she felt Patrick’s hand smooth its way over her now bare hip. She felt the bolt of heat as his hand paused, making lazy patterns in the crease of her thigh. She tried to suppress the whimper she felt like emitting. She had thought she had retreated from the edge of the somewhat en-flamed desire she had been feeling a few minutes ago, before they had broken off and he had used that frankly absurdly clichéd line on her. She was prepared to leave the ribbing over that for later though; for now she was surprised that her body had brought itself so quickly back to its previously aroused state. 

Shelagh felt Patrick pulling back from the kiss, and as they broke contact he mumbled quietly “Ah, there…. There is where we were,” as his nose rubbed hers. Patrick moved his attentions back to Shelagh’s neck, kissing and caressing, moving quickly down to lavish delicate and gently attention on her breasts once more, before moving down, trailing a line of kisses across her stomach, and across her hips, which he found to be delightfully warm. Shelagh kept contact with Patrick’s right hand, stroking his hand and arm as Patrick continued to slowly push himself down the length of the bed. When his head reached Shelagh’s hips he paused, kissing the curves of her body as he used the opportunity to shift his weight, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He gently released Shelagh’s grip on his right hand, kissing the back of her hand as he did so. 

Shelagh felt as if two parts of her were at war. There was a part of her that was suddenly incredibly nervous and unsure of what was about to happen. Oh and he’d just kissed her thigh. Oh goodness, that felt incredible. The other part of Shelagh’s brain was trying to memorise every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his fingers and touch of his lips. The nervous part was worried about what was going to happen next, the curious part just hoped it would feel as good as everything else Patrick was doing. As Patrick kissed her outer thigh again, he slipped his hand around to trail his fingers up the inside of her thigh, very gently opening a space between her legs. Shelagh gave herself over to the part of her that wanted to feel everything. “Oohh” she sighed, closing her eyes in contentment. 

Patrick took that sound as a good omen, noting that Shelagh had closed her eyes. He used the opportunity to move sideways, and gently lifted Shelagh’s left leg, placing it across his shoulder as he lent down and kissed the inside of her right knee. Supporting himself on his knees and the elbow of his right hand, he leaned forward and kissed her just beneath her belly button. Shelagh giggled and opened her eyes. 

“That tickles”.

“Interesting. Good to know” he smoothed his palm over the area, the heat from his hand calming the goose bumps which were lightly forming. He turned his head and kissed the crease between Shelagh’s thigh and her torso. Shelagh made a strangled cry. “Is that ticklish?” asked Patrick, his face displaying a look of innocence.

“No. That’s, erm, I don’t know what that is.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good”. Patrick’s hands wandered over Shelagh’s thighs and knees, and one casually swept down the length of her left leg right to the ankle before calmly smoothing up the muscle on the back of her leg. He turned his head and repeated the kiss to the crease of her body where it met the top of her other leg. He worked his lips down Shelagh’s leg, kissing and stroking her thighs, her hips, and back across her lower abdomen. He noticed Shelagh relax and felt the slight ‘whump’ sound as her head fell back and hit the pillow. 

Patrick nuzzled his nose into the crease at the top of Shelagh’s thigh, and very, very gently, manoeuvred his hand to separate the folds of her most intimate area. He noticed a very slight tensing of Shelagh’s muscles and decided he needed now to move swiftly. He turned his head and kissed her nub, softening the area with his tongue. 

Shelagh’s head shot up as her eyes opened with a look of astonishment.

“Patrick!”

Patrick kissed her delicately once more, then paused, “Yes my love” he said, raising himself the barest half an inch from where his head was buried between her legs.

“Patrick: what; what are you doing?”

“What do you think I'm doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Patrick decided a little sass was called for: “What are they teaching you girls at Nursing School these days?” he queried, taking the opportunity to caress his tongue around the delightful button once more.

“Oohhhh. Not this!” exclaimed Shelagh; “They did not teach us this in Nursing School!” it was very hard to focus Shelagh found. The jolt which had just passed through her system was like electricity. 

“For which, on reflection, I'm quite glad…” mumbled Patrick, quickly shaking his head as he kissed the very tops of her thighs and the sensitive skin surrounding the nub. He kissed her once more, pushing his luck, but noting with pleasure the slight vibrations which passed through the surrounding muscles. “Would you like me to carry on?” Patrick held his breath, hoping beyond hope that she would want him to carry on.

“Yes?” answered Shelagh, still unsure as to what exactly was happening, but knowing that the surge of energy she had just felt was something she was desperate to experience again.

Patrick responded by kissing her there again, his tongue swirling around and darting in and out as he made contact after contact with the delicate nerve endings. Shelagh felt her stomach muscles start to contract, the strangeness of the feeling surprising her and making her gasp. 

Her folds now easily accessible, Patrick’s hand moved to making soothing gestures on her hip, holding her in place carefully as he noticed her stomach muscles juddering slightly. He heard the gasp and couldn't help smiling to himself, the buzz from his lips vibrating through Shelagh’s core.

She yelped and tried to raise herself up, in an attempt to figure out what Patrick was doing. He noted the shift in weight and raised his eyes, looking directly at her as he continued to consume her, his arm reaching out and gently stroking her right nipple, which peaked instantly and led to a further gasp from Shelagh. She no longer cared exactly what he was doing; she just knew that the look of focused intensity in his eyes was enough to send her over the edge, and she continued to gaze at him as he continued his ministrations. The nipple graze was the final tipping point, and with two further impassioned suckling motions, Shelagh felt a great pressure build up inside her, and just as suddenly release. She made a noise which could only be described as guttural and collapsed back onto the bed, her head hitting the pillow loudly as all her muscles relaxed simultaneously. Patrick smirked and kissed the damp heat once more, before levering himself up to kiss the very bottom of her abdomen. Shelagh was still gasping for air. 

“All right?” Patrick asked; an element of pride in his voice. If he had been walking right now there would have been a slight swagger in his step. Oh their love making was going to be glorious. He had thought Shelagh would probably be responsive, but this was considerably more intense than he had been anticipating. He moved himself back down and around, gently placing her leg down on the bed as he shifted himself up to lie alongside Shelagh. She shivered slightly, and Patrick hastily grabbed a blanket to cover them. He wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed her shoulder. “All right?” he asked once more. 

It was all Shelagh could do to nod.

“Good good. Are you warm enough?” he asked. She nodded once more, an attempt to voice her answer failing to elicit anything other than a half-gurgling, half-gasping sound.   
Shelagh was feeling incredibly light-headed. She mustered together as much brain power as she could, to finally be able to ask, 

“Is that supposed to happen?”

“Yes.”

“Oh” she paused. “What did you just do?” the curiosity had won over the fear. 

“Give me your hand” said Patrick gently. Shelagh complied and he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers gently, swirling his tongue around each of them. He took her hand and pulled it gently down to where he had just been. He deftly but cautiously parted her legs with his thumb and fingers and placed Shelagh’s lithe fingers onto the delicate bud. He placed his fingers on top of hers, guiding her.

“Can you feel that?”

“Erm, yes?”

“OK, good. Now” he pressed lightly on Shelagh’s fingers, encouraging them to move lightly.

The fire which had been damping down renewed itself with vigour, “oh!” she exclaimed.

“That’s a whole bundle of very sensitive nerve endings that are very, very responsive to, erm, stimulation” Patrick nervously coughed out the word ‘stimulation’. 

“Oh” said Shelagh, as he fingers continued to lightly graze over herself, led by Patrick’s gentle actions. “ooohh” she said, feeling herself becoming somewhat light-headed once more, “umm” she voiced, a slight grin appearing on her face. Patrick held Shelagh close as the combined movements of their fingers brought Shelagh very quickly to completion once more. Shelagh’s head fell back to the pillow; her eyes remaining resolutely open as she stared at the ceiling seeking comprehension.

“How do you feel?” asked Patrick, curious to hear her description.

Shelagh was struggling to remember her own name, let alone anything as complex as a vocabulary to describe something she had never even known to have existed before. She decided to keep it simple.

“Tingly. Warm. Cold. Tired. Awake. Consumed. Desired. Loved. Surprised” Shelagh spoke each word deliberately, carefully, and spontaneously, as they presented themselves inside her mind. 

“Surprised?” 

“I thought we’d be unwrapping presents from under the tree. I didn't really expect….”

“That I’d be unwrapping you instead?” smiled Patrick.

“We need to talk about your pick-up lines Doctor Turner, that was shocking!” said Shelagh, regaining her ability to process coherent thoughts.

“Sorry my love, I just couldn't resist.” He bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. Shelagh hummed as they separated.

“Besides, I'm fairly sure I'm the one who got the present” smirked Shelagh.

“Why you saucy little…” Patrick was prevented from finishing his sentence by Shelagh rolling over, bringing the blanket with her as it wrapped around her and enveloped her within its warmth. She rolled until she was lying half on top of him. Smiling, she reached forward to him, wrapping her hands around his neck and into his hair. She kissed him passionately on the lips, parting to grin at him and whisper into his ear,

“Anyway darling, what I definitely feel that I can safely say, is that this is A Very Merry Christmas. Happy Christmas Patrick, I love you”.


End file.
